Regrets
by Silverleaf15
Summary: Also a Throne of Glass fanfic. Title says it all. Talks about the past regrets of the three main characters in Throne of Glass: Celaena, Dorian and Chaol.
1. Of Bittersweet Recollections

**Celaena finally sits down and thinks. She reflects on her life and past regrets. To what conclusion does she come to?**

Note: There has been some changes made to the names in this story. Celaena's past might sound a bit different as well from Mirror Memories. Those people who have read the original Throne of Glass story (formerly called Queen of Glass) on Fictionpress will get the modifications.

**The song included in the story is Memory by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Extra brownie points if you can guess the name of the musical this song came from. **

* * *

Sometimes I come to wonder what destiny meant when he bid I survive the fateful day the God of Death declared I would die. Why was I spared? And in such a dramatic fashion as well. I drowned. Or, half-drowned, if we are being specific here. The bridge I ran across to escape had been tampered with. The rope that held the two sides together was frayed, a clean cut that was obviously the work of a knife. The crafty assassin concealed it, and when I fled for my life, the damaged bridge collapsed from underneath me, and I fell into a half-frozen, fast-moving river. A river that carried my limp body thirty-six miles westward before spitting me out of its cold, clammy grasp right next to the capital city of Adarlan. The residence of my sworn enemy. The King of Adarlan.

When I look back, I often laugh at the irony of it. My parents were murdered in their beds by a cold-hearted assassin, a direct order from the King of Adarlan. My life was saved by the King of Assassins, Arobynn Hamel. He found me near death in that cursed frozen river and carried me back to his keep. For nine years I trained and killed the very people that aided the king in his conquest of Terrasen. Until I got caught of course. Sent to a salt mine at seventeen. But I'll get to that later. All stories start with once upon a time after all. So let me commence at the very beginning.

I was born in the height of summer in the capital city of Terrasen, Orynth. But it didn't matter the time or place I was born because everyone in the country, maybe even all of Erilea would have heard about it. I was named Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the crown princess of Terrasen. Royalty. Even as a child, I was the most illustrious girl in my home country, one of the elite. Always the one of the highest rank within the noble circles. The richest, most powerful child in all of Terrasen.

And I hated it. I suppose I shouldn't have loathed my life so much. I had a mother and father who loved me and an uncle who doted on my every word. I was well fed, especially compared to the orphans and beggars outside the city walls, and I was incredibly spoiled. I got whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Perhaps that was what bothered me.

There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of people out of my reach. People I've never even met that were dying of starvation because they lacked the basic needs I had always took for granted. One of them being money. But of course, being just a girl, I wasn't in charge of the finance department. I had no way of helping them. I couldn't sneak out of the castle or even go out past the palace grounds. Guards followed me everywhere. I felt like a criminal. The castle walls kept me in as easily as if they had been bars. Granted, I got a lot more rights than a lawbreaker would have, but it made no difference. I complained about it to my father once, but he just laughed at me and kissed my forehead_. It is for your safety, Aelin. Yours and the kingdoms. What will Terrasen do without its beautiful future Queen?_ he had said. It was always about me. Me and the crown. I had always wished for a cousin, for Uncle to finally marry. That way I wouldn't have to rule. But like many people, we don't often get a choice.

For a relatively advanced country, Terrasen's royal family was not... that developed, let's just say. It consisted of my Uncle, Orlon, and my father, Rhoe. My grandparents had died young leaving the kingdom to my father's older brother, Orlon. From the start, Uncle Orlon had been a scholar, a mathematician. Romance had never been Uncle's strong suit. His overly analytic mind couldn't fathom it. He preferred musty books and complex calculations to lovers. It was not because he was not good-looking or that he didn't receive female attention. In fact, he did. A lot of it. Mostly because he was the king and the lucky female who caught the king's attention would be his queen. But Uncle hated the whole lot of them because they couldn't see anything past the crown on his head. So Uncle gave up that job to his younger brother Rhoe, my father.

Uncle and father were like night and day, as separate as the Sun and Moon. Where Uncle was introverted, father was extroverted. Where Uncle lived and breathed within his documents, father was sociable, partly due to the fact that he was forced to hold court since Uncle had no queen. To say that the ladies of the court adored him would be an understatement. They fawned and flirted and ogled him like a prized horse. Until my mother came along. The famed, exotic royal from the West. Princess Evaelien Ashryver. It was said that her wisdom and beauty shone, dazzling all who met her, and her eyes the colour of the southern seas in the summertime. You see, she had the Ashryver eyes. A trait only the royal family of Wendlyn possessed. Sapphire eyes with a brilliant ring of fiery gold around the pupil. Everyone says the moment my father met my mother it was love at first sight. Their courtship was so utterly romantic, the ladies in the court talked about it _ages _after the whole darn thing was done. My mother and father got married and had me soon after.

Although I had the bodily features of both my parents, I looked most like my mother. It was in the angled shaped of my jaw and cheekbones, the smooth slope of my nose, and in my svelte but curvy body. And without a doubt, the Ashryver eyes that is ever dominate in all children with the blood of the Wendlyn royal line.

As for my father, I inherited his silky head of gold. I loved my father's hair. Though his was shorter than mine, as an infant I often climbed onto his back to touch it. Waves of shiny amber. Just like mine.

I didn't only receive gifts of physical characteristics from my parents though. I also had inner attributes. I acquired my mother's intelligence, and ability to think through difficult situations. Unfortunately, I cannot say I possess even an inch of her patience and self-control. I admired my father's strength and courage, endurance and perseverance. I wish I could tell if I have the same qualities he did. At least I have his skill for weaponry. My father was unsurpassable in hand-to-hand combat and his prowess in sword craft was unmatched by any other.

I wished I had his courage the day Adarlan killed them. I should have stayed behind. Killed the assassin as easily as he murdered my family. Instead, I was the foolish damsel in distress. I screamed and screamed and screamed until my voice gave out. I had slept in-between my parents as the life drained out of them, not even knowing, not even understanding. I don't know what would have been worse. Watching them as they died, as the light in their eyes dimmed to nothing, bodies stiffening, getting colder or finding out unexpectedly, covered in their blood, the crimson fluid stiffening in my nightclothes.

My screams brought the assassin back, and I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I could not even think. I don't know if I was fleeing from a certain death or whether I just wanted to escape, to forget my life. There was nothing to live for anymore. So when the bridge came into view, I ran faster, faster until I danced with the wind. The moment I set my foot on the bridge, I saw the near-severed rope and I remember smiling. I remember the bridge creaking ominously under my weight before it cracked where I was standing, plunging me into the icy waters below. And before I went under, I laughed, a joyous sound that rang in the still, silent winter air. I was going to join my family. I was finally, as I never was before, _free_. The rushing water closed in over my head and I thought again. _Free_. And then the darkness came for me rising up and swallowing me whole.

The day I met Arobynn Hamel, I near killed him. I woke up in a bed light fluffy down, my head resting on plump, exquisitely embellished pillows, warmed sheets wrapping me in a cocoon of amnesia. For a moment, I forgot the events of the previous days. I laid there, surrounded by stuffed fabric and I believed, I believed I was back at the castle, that everything was just one horrible dream. That my maidservant, Teresa, would bustle in a few minutes with her overly cheerful voice getting me ready for lessons. That my parents would come in and kiss me good morning. That I would still be that spoiled, mischievous crown princess of Terrasen who drove my parents to distraction. But I knew that wouldn't happen. I was alone in a foreign, corrupt world. My parents couldn't protect me now. Nobody could. I only had my wits and cleverness. I just hoped it was enough for me to survive on. I sat up gazing at my new surroundings. It was somewhat elaborate for such a simple room. It consisted of a bed and a separate bathing chamber. Though there might not be much in the room, the decor on the walls and drapes on the canopy bed was enough to compensate for it. I noticed there was no windows. Just four walls that boxed me in. Another prison.

The door opened and I whipped around to stare at an unfamiliar stranger. The man was in his mid twenties and dressed in the fashions of the court of Adarlan, but that wasn't the first thing that caught my attention. No. It was the way the man walked. He had a controlled predatory grace that I immediately admired. He was appealing in a way, and though he was not classically handsome, the man oozed an aura of power, allure, and self assurance. Men and woman alike would have fell at his feet back at court but it didn't bother me. In fact this reassured me quite a bit. I knew his type. Plenty of rich young men acted like him. As if he owned the world. I think I act like that most of the time as well. Except when I say, I own the world, I don't lie. I do own it. Part of it, anyway. But it doesn't matter anymore, does it?

He introduced himself as Arobynn Hamel. The King of Assassins. I wasn't expecting that, but now that I think of it, that _did_ make sense. With the way he walked and the frightening stillness of his silver, grey eyes as he stared at me. Taking me in as I did him a few moments ago. I cocked my head and smiled sweetly at him. I had no need to introduce myself. If he is as good as his reputation says he is, I'll have no need. He knew who I was already. He had known since he found me in that river. The question was how much he knew. Arobynn gave me a mocking bow. "Your highness," he said smirking a bit. I looked demurely down at the soft carpeted floor and I curtsied back while simultaneously reaching with my left hand to touch my temple in a way that made it look like I had a headache.

I rose out my bow and pretended to sway a bit, stumbling back to the bed lightly. I clutched my head and twisted my face into a mask of pain, swooning. I made sure he was close enough to catch me as I fell. Strong arms circled my waist, pulling me up gently, cradling me to a broad chest. In my mind, I smiled, triumph rearing its head and snarling its victory. My breaths came slow as I let my right hand go limp, dangling down. I covertly palmed the small stiletto in my left and waited. As he looked away calling for a healer, I struck, as fast a rattlesnake. But still not fast enough. His hand lashed out to grip my hand, small and frail in his big and callused one. And as an amused smile curved his lips, I realized that we were one and the same.

I agreed to work for him after that. He demanded loyalty, someone he could trust to carry out his missions. I wanted someone that could keep my past a secret on pain of death. Someone who could aid in my goal to kill those that played a part in Terrasen's downfall. So it was a advantageous relationship on both parts. Arobynn and I decided on a new name for me. One the whole land will eventually come to fear. Celaena Sardothien. Arobynn never let me go back to Terrasen and I never asked him. I wasn't sure if I wanted to. I played my part, serving him as I could. His champion and lapdog. It wasn't the ideal position, but it was to some extent, a high post. I was content and that was all that mattered. Arobynn trained me himself and brought in the best private tutors and trainers from all over Erilea.

I finished my education with flying colours. Of course, not everyone was pleased. When Arobynn first brought me in to meet the other assassins, I was more than a little leery of the situation. Put a young girl with a houseful of older men and suddenly you're the main attraction in the group. The odd one out. At first they had ignored me, but when you come waltzing in the main hall escorted by the King of Assassins himself, you really can't overlook my importance.

There was another boy my age there. He couldn't have been more than ten years of age. He looked at me, blatant curiosity shining in his intelligent golden brown eyes. I held my head high as he made his careful perusal. What had brought him here? The boy wasn't the only one who looked at me strange. Many of the other men gave a double-take as they saw me. Arobynn sat down at the head of the table and he gestured for me to stand behind him on his right hand side. I took my place and the man sitting beside Arobynn gazed at me with an unreadable expression. He had kind eyes, for an assassin, I had mused. I did not say anything but I inclined my head slightly, silent acknowledgement of his presence. The man gave me a wry grin and nodded before facing forward again. I watched him for a bit before turning to the others. I would find out later that the man's name was Ben, Arobynn's second. Arobynn called the meeting into session. It was not unlike the council meetings I had attended in Orynth.

"I am sure you are all wondering why I had brought you all here tonight," Arobynn said. "I have found a new trainee." He waved a lazy hand in my general direction. "This is Celaena Sardothien of Terrasen. She will be with us for a long time, I'm sure, so you should get used to seeing her around the Keep." Murmurs of dissent followed his words. Arobynn held out a hand. "That is my final decision, so don't try to convince me otherwise."

"She's a girl! Merely a child at that," snapped a muscular man with raven black hair.

"I do realize that, Gregori," Arobynn said infuriatingly calm. "We all have eyes that can see." Gregori flushed.

"Perhaps you are too quick to judge the girl," piped up another.

"Are you implying that I cannot correctly see for myself the talent that _Celaena_ has?" Arobynn asked the man in question. "For someone who usually has such good tastes, you are remarkably anti-feminist." No protests followed this.

"I have seen with my own eyes the extraordinary resourcefulness this girl has and I believe she is perfectly capable of become the best of my best." Arobynn paused and looked around the room, his gaze resting on his men one at a time. "One day, she will be better and more capable than you all." Some of the men snorted at this.

"She near killed me in my own house," Arobynn said steadily. Utter silence. She felt the disbelieving gaze of the boy on her and she stared back at him defiantly. Her eyes danced over each of the men. Challenging anyone to refute her master's claim.

"How did that happen exactly?" someone asked at last disrupting the rapidly filling tension. It was the man on Arobynn's right. The one who smiled at her. Arobynn shrugged.

"I underestimated her. Celaena is bright and capable. I didn't realize it until it was almost too late."

"Prove it. You are not hurt. How can we believe what you say?" Sounds of agreement followed this statement. Arobynn nodded.

"I guessed it as much. Clear the tables." As the wooden stands were pushed off to the side Arobynn pulled her aside. "Win this fight and the men will respect you. Do not disappoint me, Galathynius."

It was then that I realized that if I wanted to make a new life for myself, I'll have to change myself in every way. There was no Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She disappeared from this world the day Terrasen fell. I smiled fiercely, the candlelight reflecting my eyes and sending them sparkling. "I am not going to lose. I am Celaena Sardothien, remember? And Celaena doesn't lose, she triumphs."

Obviously I won. And won and won and won. I never lost a single fight to them. The other assassins stopped their teasing the moment I killed my first man at the ripe young age of ten. I often ask myself if I regret taking that path. The path of death and destruction. I bathed my hands in blood and rinsed it with crime. Scar after scar after scar. Kill after kill after kill. Was it worth it? Worth it to turn my back on my heritage, on myself just to survive? Others faced with this dilemma would have been better than me. They would have choose death over disloyalty. I sometimes wonder if I would have been better off dead. If I had died in that blasted river all those years ago I would be at peace, had a great afterlife. Now I am not so sure. Amone, Goddess of Redemption and Judgement, would probably laugh me all the way to the darkest pits of Wyrd. I could practically feel my heart weighing down with every kill, my soul charred and black as if I had dipped it in the darkest of inks. _When we die, the gods will not even know what to do with us, _I had said to Sam.

Sam. Enemy, friend, lover- he was all of these things, neatly packaged with a big red bow. He had always been difficult to deal with. Sam, who was constantly attempting to undermine me, challenge my authority as Arobynn's second in command, heir and protégé. And for the longest time, I hated him. The feeling was mutual. Sam had been jealous of me and I knew it. Perhaps that's why I was always so insufferable when it comes to him and me. Arobynn lavished attention on me and left the other assassins to rot. I suppose I would have been just as livid if I were Sam, but that's not the point. I was Celaena Sardothien. I _had_ to win, to be better than anyone else, because I suspected that was the only reason Arobynn kept me around. But after the disaster that was Skull's Bay and the collapse of the Pirate Lord. After Arobynn had beaten me into oblivion, I was not so sure anymore. Was I any more important to him than the others? And when Arobynn sent me to the Red Desert I became even more sure. Can I serve a master that has no mercy for human life? Even when your master is the King of Assassins?

Sam was different. The best of us. He deserved better than me. His declaration during the Doneval project. I-I didn't know. How could I? I had next to no relationship experience. I wish he was still here. I wish I were the same girl I was back then. I thought that if only Sam and I were free from Arobynn, everything would fall into place, everything would be clear and perfect. How wrong I was. It was even worse, and I had myself to blame for it. The other assassins certainly had. Sam was the good one, the perfect friend to them, and I took him away from them. He died the most horrible death and it was all my fault.

We would have avoided everything if I had gone with him. So many factors would have changed. He wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't have been sent to Endovier. We would have had a life together.

I lost so much in those days. I lost Sam, my life, Arobynn, and a part of my heart. A jagged piece that left a hole that aches every each moment of the day. I long for something better, but my life never improves. It's better not to think of the things that could have been. It is a puzzle of pain, loss, betrayal, and sorrow. I have spent so much time with pieces of myself missing, I wonder if I was ever whole in the first place. Was I born broken? But I guess I got used to it, the brokenness, because in the darkness of the salt mines I didn't crack. I endured. The Mute Master told me that people dealt with their pain in different ways, some chose to drown in it, some chose to love it and some chose to let it turn into rage. I chose to love the pain life threw my way. It reminded me that I was still alive. A gift that many did not have. So I waited. Waited for an opportunity to arise in which could lead to escape. And as I waited, I convinced myself to not give up. That there was something worth living for beyond the walls of this prison.

When I complained as a child about being kept in the castle like a criminal, I didn't think it would really happen in real life. My pampered life as a princess was nothing close to the horrors I saw in the eyes of the prisoners in Endovier. I was so stupid then.

My mother used to sing me to sleep when I had nightmares. If only my whole life was a nightmare I could wake up from. One of the songs the imprisoned Eyllwe rebels sing reminds me of a song she used to sing for me. I loved her voice. I do not have my mother's aptitude for singing but I shared her love of music. I had a pianoforte in my room and she would often play for me while she sang. There was a song I always asked her to sing for me over and over again. Mother said that song was from her home country of Wendlyn. I frequently asked her if she missed Wendlyn and her family there. Most of the time she would smile and say,_ You and your father are my family now._ But I hated that response because I could tell she was keeping something from me. There was one time when her answer was different though. _Memories are where we meet the ones we love without seeing them. _How true that is. So in the darkness of the mine, I sing. I sing and remember the times that have passed and the times that have yet to come. And there in my memories, I remember.

**Midnight**  
Not a sound from the pavement  
Has the moon lost her memory?  
She is smiling alone  
In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet  
And the wind begins to moan  
**Memory**  
All alone in the moonlight  
I can smile at the old days  
I was beautiful then  
I remember the time I knew what happiness was  
Let the memory live again  
Every streetlamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning  
Someone mutters, and a streetlamp gutters,  
And soon it will be morning.  
**Daylight**  
I must wait for the sunrise  
I must think of a new life  
And I mustn't give in.  
When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too  
And a new day will begin  
Burnt out ends of smoky days  
The stale cold smell of morning  
The streetlamp dies, another night is over  
Another day is dawning...  
Touch me!  
It's so easy to leave me  
All alone with the memory  
Of my days in the sun...  
If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is  
Look, a new day  
Has begun

And with this song, my mother taught me how to hope, to imagine a new beginning. So I hoped, and wished for better days. And that day came, in the form of a spoiled prince and his loyal Captain of the Guard. But as the three of us got closer the more I worried. I was afraid to regret again. I was so afraid that they will die, slip out of my grasp just like the others I have loved. They will disappear and I will be alone as I always am. They are my sparks of light in the gloom. My compass in the storm. I can't lose them like I lost Sam or my family. I _can't_. So I hope. I hope and I hope and I hope that things will get better. I cannot go back and live my life again. I can only go forward.

I wished I had the courage to kill myself, to end my life as readily as I did the people I murdered. Maybe I should have drowned in that accursed frozen river ten years ago. Maybe, if I departed from this world the people around me would stop dying. So, as my thoughts come to a full circle once again, I ask myself. Why was I spared when so many are dying? Would I have been better off dead?


	2. A Damaged Conscience

**And this is Dorian's POV. Not really his regrets, but the way he sees his life. Chaol's POV coming soon. His life is kinda harder. I don't really know anything about him...**

* * *

I wish I was born a normal boy. It would have made many things much easier. If only I was like Chaol. A minor lord, perhaps. Free to do what I wanted without so many eyes on me all the time. But if everyone got what they asked for, the world wouldn't be a world, would it? It would be more like paradise, and Erilea is hardly close to any type of utopia. I can't even imagine what life must be like for people outside the city. I've never seen it. I wish I could. I wish I could just throw my life to the wind and see where it took me. But... I can't. Responsibility plays a large part of being, well, me.

Sometimes I ask Celaena what life was like for her before she got sent to Endovier, but she never answers. Perhaps it's better that way. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. I do wonder though. Was it as horrible for her growing up as it was for me? We had so much in common. Celaena and I had both grew up under unforgiving fathers. While I know she is an assassin I cannot reconcile her with the King of Assassins. Unlike Arobynn Hamel, Celaena has a heart. A conscience. She bestows mercy and kindness as often as she ends the life of innocents. Her only flaw is her inconsistency. Celaena's moods vary wildly and while she can kill men as easily as smacking flies she also can be extremely arrogant and haughty. If I didn't know better, I would imagine she acted a little like me when I was younger. I didn't know what to expect when I went to fetch her from the Salt Mines. I had thought she would be half-dead at least, but what I didn't expect to find was a beautiful, angry woman with the most extraordinary eyes I've even seen. Cocky, bold, vain, egotistical. She was all of these things but they just made her look and sound more human. Of all the people in the world, she was most like me. But she's not the whole story, so let's start at the beginning.

Being the Crown Prince of the most hated kingdom in the world is not exactly an easy job. I suppose others would think it was. But, it's not. I have never met another royal who didn't want to be royalty except me. It looks like a great life from the outside, doesn't it. I have all my needs taken care of, an unending line of gorgeous female admirers, and a kingdoms worth of riches. Everything anyone would want. Others work their whole lives for this kind of existence, but not me. It was given all to me at birth. My gift for being the first son of the most influential king in the world. I can't help but think myself undeserving of all this. What have I done for this kingdom other than being born? Others would die to have my position but I got it for free. Well, not free. There's always a price for everything, that's what I learned after nineteen years of this frivolous life.

From the age of five, I have had lessons. They weren't entirely useless although they were quite boring at times. Hollin often fell asleep during his lessons. I pitied his tutors. They obviously couldn't wake him. His teachers probably would have gotten a beating for interfering with his beauty sleep. But I wish for lessons now. Anything would be better than sitting in at court. It didn't agree with me. I hated the courtiers intentional ignorance of the world beyond the castle walls. It was as if they believe, by not acknowledging the unpleasant things of this world, the unfavorable things would ignore them as well. They don't care, and that's what bothers me most of all. How can we spend so much money on trivial things when there were beggars and unfortunates all over the city? And that's only Rifthold. What about the other cities, towns and villages in the empire? Mother always sends me the most elaborate outfits to wear to court. How many starving families would the outfit have fed? I felt like a doll. A life-sized doll that people liked to toy with. If it was only the ladies of the court, I _definitely_ wouldn't mind. But when others try to get close to me just to take advantage of my rank... that I can't stand. At all. If it wasn't for Chaol, I probably would have been all alone.

Chaol and I were the only noble born children our age in the castle. There were others of course, but they were of low rank. Offspring and illegitimate children of servants, guards, and soldiers. Father would have never let me associate with them. _They are lowborn. Disgusting vermin, _he would have said. I met Chaol one sunny day in late summer when he was playing in the garden... With his father's sword. Of course, Lord Westfall didn't know his son had his beloved blade. If he did, Chaol's father never would have let him close to it in the first place. Chaol was ten. He had started his fencing lessons already. I was only seven. Not nearly old enough for an actually sword, but I was fascinated. Fascinated by the way he wield it, the weapon a mere extension of his arm. Fascinated by the way he moved, smoothly, fluidly without a hitch. Fascinated by the smallest maneuver that made him equally graceful and deadly, as if the feints and parries were part of an elaborate dance I could not hear the music to. I watched him fight an imaginary opponent as I hid behind a large rose bush watching him. I did that every day for a week. Naturally, he found me out.

"What are you doing in there? How long have you been there?!" he scowled at me, sheathing the sword awkwardly. The blade was way too big for him.

I was not at all cowed by his hostile questioning. In fact, I was actually quite amused. "Don't you know who I am? You could get in a lot of trouble for talking to me like this." Chaol looked at me sceptically.

"Sure," he drawled. I grinned cheekily at him.

"My name's Dorian. It's great to finally met you. Hiding in bushes is not exactly comfortable, you know." His brows rose.

"Dorian Havilliard? The Crown Prince?"

"At your service," I bowed. Chaol didn't quite look like he believed me, but he played along.

"Your Highness," he said smirking a bit, bowing. "Why have you been watching your lowly servant fumble with his swordplay? I am sure you have much more important things to do."

I shrugged. "Watching you is better than attending my lessons, which is what I am trying very hard to avoid." His bronze eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Avoiding lessons, are you? I didn't expect that from you, Your Highness."

I glared at him. "Lessons are boring, no matter what I'm learning," I paused, "You haven't told me your name yet." Chaol shrugged infuriatingly. I narrowed my eyes.

"I demand-"

"Your Highness!" A guard ran up to me panting. I gave him a moment to catch his breath, a moment I used to smirk at Chaol, before I said, "Yes?"

"Her Majesty, Queen Georgina wishes to see Your Highness," the guard said, bowing low. I hissed out a breath and sighed heavily. Fun was over. I flicked a hand dismissing him.

"I'll just be a moment. Go back to your post." He bowed again and backed away. I turned to Chaol. "So... Do you believe me now?" Chaol smiled, fully this time.

"I never said I didn't believe you."

"I could tell by your tone," I countered. His smile turned into a full blown grin.

"Could you really," he said, cocking his head.

I changed the subject. "Will you tell me your name?" He groaned.

"This question again?" I crossed my arms stubbornly, refusing to move. "You should go to court. Her Majesty is waiting for you." My shoulders slumped, and I probably looked miserable because Chaol took pity on me. "I'll meet you here again tomorrow. And then I'll tell you my name." I brightened a bit. I had nobody my age in the castle. Perhaps he could change that. And change it, he did.

I begged father to have Chaol join me in my lessons. Having a companion was preferable to being alone. I never realized how quiet and lonely I was before Chaol came into my life, and I'll be forever grateful for what he has done for me and with me over the years. Whether he kept me from strangling Hollin after another extremely frustrating encounter or openly rebelling against father, antagonizing him once more, Chaol has never once acted like one of those court ninnies who would do anything to climb up the social ladder. Like Kaltain.

Kaltain was the worse of them. Hounding my every step. A persistent, scheming shadow. As if I didn't know she had an eye on the crown. In fact, perhaps that was all she wanted. Mother liked her, of course. Lady Kaltain was rich, influential, and absolutely stunning, but that paled in comparison to her lack of feeling for others. She hid her true face with a court trained mask. One that hid her viper swift disdain and criticism of others. She cuts people down with her the razor-sharp words as easily as Celaena slits the throats of her victims and my father's targets. But for all Chaol's training and lessons as the Captain of guards apprentice, he never prepared for the fact that he might be forced to kill someone someday, until Cain.

Before Chaol became the Captain of the Guard's pupil he and I spent much of our days together as I said previously. It was just the two of us, and sometimes we would get into so much trouble our tutors despaired we would ever learn anything. But, oh, I loved those days. I was young and carefree. Father was away from court most of the time, one less pair of eyes to watch me.

Chaol and his family moved back to their city, Anielle, in his thirteenth year. I was absolutely miserable. The only light of my days were the daily letters we sent each other. That continued for a few weeks, then, the letters began to taper off until they became nonexistent. I still wrote to him, but he never answered. It was two months later before Chaol wrote again. He begged me to let him come back to Rifthold. He had abdicated his title as Lord Westfall to his younger brother ,Terrin. I immediately knew something was wrong, but the problem was I didn't know what. I asked, no _commanded_, the Captain of the Guard to take Chaol as his apprentice. He didn't need much convincing. The Captain was getting old and was in need of a successor. It helped that Chaol had excellent fencing skills and the fact that he came from nobility. But when Chaol came back... he was not the same. Something had happened to him in the two months he didn't write. I never pried, but I think it had something to do with his mother. After all, he and Lady Westfall had been exceedingly close. Why would Chaol come back from his beloved city to be a lowly Captain of the Guard? Then again, I have never questioned him, and after his training was finished he grew into his role as Captain. He held the loyalty and respect of the soldiers and guards under his command.

For me, it was different. Everyone was expected to treat me with special care, all because I was the crown prince. None of them knew me, the true me. Who am I other than a spoiled prince? A boy who has gotten his way too many times to count. There was no one like me in all of Erilea. The last Crown Prince. Granted, there were other royals. My father, mother, and brother obviously. Then there was the king and queen of Melisande. They traded their crowns for their lives. I don't know whether I pitied them for it or wanted to scream at them for being such cowards. Not that I was one to say anything. I am such a hypocrite. I'm just as cowardly as they, maybe even more so. On the outside, I am charming, confident and arrogant. On the inside though, things were much different. A grey shivering mass of fear and shame. For the frivolity and foolishness of his court. For the brutality and inhumanity of the armies and the man who ruled over it all. My father.

The king of Adarlan is the conqueror of nearly all of Erilea, a force of death. I've never seen the battlegrounds, the bloodbaths in which thousands upon thousands die to protect their home country. I couldn't even face Nehemia after the Eyllwe rebel massacre. How can I be the Crown Prince of a empire where my subjects have so little feeling for lives other than their own? Compassion and empathy do not dwell here, not in the castle, not in Rifthold. Death surrounds the city, the borders. From the bitter cold of the northern country, Terrasen, to my dark, oppressive home, to the southern blazing heat of Eyllwe. My father doesn't care. He only wants more. More land, more countries under his command, more continents that bore the Adarlan flag.

Father doesn't care who dies in his campaign for power. Soldiers, rebels, even whole families. I wonder if Father ever feels guilt for the people he kills, the deaths that were commanded by him. A sweep of his sword, another command, more deaths, more kills. What do all those deaths say about me? That I'm just as heartless and cruel as my father? I don't want to be like that. I don't! I am such a coward not to stand up to him. To not openly disagree with his methods. But I have no choice. I am not enough of a man to face to consequences of my actions. Father would never listen to me. Everything has been laid out for me since birth. Title, path, marriage. I have no choices, no freedom. So I lock myself in my tower room. The only place where I ever have peace. There is a reason I chose a room so far away from court. A room so high, away from mother's demands, father's disappointment and the expectant faces of the court.

I met Rosamund when I was seventeen. I was so carefree then. I went through the court ladies as if they were jackets, trying one after the other. They all bored me after a while. Except Rosamund. She was... surprising to say in the least. I have never met another woman who liked to hunt, well, save for Celaena. But she hunted...different things. Rosamund was beautiful. In fact, that was what caught my attention in the first place. She had a flowing waterfall of shiny, ebony hair and the greenest eyes I had ever seen. In her eyes were the lush forest, the brightest of emeralds. And just like Celaena, she didn't care for my attention. She was one of the rare court ladies who disliked my fondness for her outright. But I liked challenges, and Rosamund provided the biggest challenge of all. So I began to court her. Our courtship was quite unusual. Instead of spending time with her in the castle, I would invite her on hunts. It became a favored game of ours. Who can bring down the most animals in a given period of time. Rosamund provided a distraction from court and mother never objected to my infatuation. Father didn't care at all.

I fell for her, hard. I liked her stubbornness, her refusal to grovel to a higher power. I didn't realize she didn't return my feelings. I was blind. So completely blind. She married other man. A crude and tasteless man who hated me. I wonder what I did wrong. What I did to get her to shun me so. I got over it eventually, but it still hurt. And then Celaena did the same thing. She broke my heart the same way.

I traveled to find Celaena Sardothien as my Champion for the absurd contest Father had wanted to hold. Honestly, I am not sure what I expected to find. From the few reports Chaol had managed to acquire, the ones about the assassin were always sparse. When I arrived in Endovier, I saw the other prisoners of war. Starved and blank-eyed, beaten and submissive. I thought Celaena would be the same. How wrong I was. The moment I laid my eyes on her, I knew she was something, someone special. She stood tall, bored and appraising. As if she couldn't believe she was wrenched out of the mines for such a useless meeting. Celaena was nothing like the other slaves. Where the slaves were broken, she was whole, but jagged. Where they lacked fire, she burned with a cold, bitter anger. I was amused with her antics in the throne room. Even Chaol liked her attitude, even though he wouldn't admit it. I also didn't expect that she would be so absolutely stunning. She was even younger that I. The best assassin in the world. Adarlan's assassin, a queen of the Underworld.

She was brought back to the castle. And she won the contest. In the bloodiest, most painful way possible. I fell for her just as I did Rosamund and just like Rosamund, she gave up on me. But I don't care. Even if she doesn't care for me that way, nothing is stopping me from still loving her. Father doesn't like her obviously and mother would die if I told her, but Celaena is different. She's special. I don't know how or why she is like the way she is, but I will fight, I will fight for her. I will not abandon her like the way I did the day of the duel. And if she ever gets hurt again...no force in the Wyrd will ever keep me from tearing the world apart for her.

And so it ends.


End file.
